The Funeral
by panda holmes
Summary: Short chapters about Sherlock's post-reichenbach funeral, one for most of the main characters and their feelings/actions during his funeral and the days following.
1. Chapter 1

_****__****__Hai there! This is my first ever fic, I really hope you enjoy it, if you do I'll probably add a chapter for each character. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, as are suggestions for stories, I'm always looking to improve my writing, just be gentle, please. I DO NOT OWN THE SHERLOCK SERIES OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS!  
_

_**Lestrade.**_

If Molly Hooper hadn't examined the body herself, Gregory Lestrade would not believe what happened at St. Bart's a few days ago.

But it did happen.

And now Gregory Lestrade was donning his best black suit with his nicest black dress shirt and his finest (and only) black tie.

Half an hour later Greg arrived at the Cemetery and readied a crew of his most trusted officers around the perimeter to keep the press out of this private affair, as John had requested.

When he finished he walked over to the closed coffin, the open, waiting, grave, and the group of the 5 other people that were permitted to witness this sorrowful event (not counting the minister). After the minister had said a few words about life and death, Greg stepped behind the simple black headstone, engraved merely with the words "Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock Holmes," Greg began. "Was broken when I met him, he was a druggie and I didn't trust him; but, he quickly proved to be one of the most brilliantly minded men I have ever met. He became an integral part of my team, and I watched him get clean, stay clean, become a great man, and begin his path to becoming a good man. With help from the people gathered here today, I believe that he truly did become that man I knew he could be. His passing has come as a devastating shock to all of us. He will be greatly missed be myself, my team, and the people who loved and respected him."

Greg stepped back to his former place between Molly Hooper and John Watson, but not before giving and receiving tearful hugs from everyone. And then Mycroft stepped up behind the headstone. After clearing his throat and dabbing slightly at his eyes he began:

"My little brother there is so much I could say about him, and so much I wish I could have said to him. Try as I may I suppose there was one thing I could not protect Sherlock from, one thing nobody saw coming: himself. My brother always claimed that he didn't have any friends and that he was happy that way, and for a very long time that was true. Then, Mrs. Hudson, John, Greg, and Molly, all came into his life and showed him friendship, especially John, and if my brother thought he only had one friend in this world, it comforts me that he knew that that one friend, was faithful, and that he died with that thought in his head. So as we mourn his passing, I would like to thank John Hamish Watson, for showing Sherlock the love and friendship he had always denied himself, thank you John, for making his last days happy and meaningful."

And with tears threatening to spill from his eyes, Mycroft stepped down to stand next to his and Sherlock's mother. Finally John took the spot behind the headstone, his soldier's façade not betraying anything that he was feeling. When he spoke it was simple, brief, yet the perfect thing to be said.

"Sherlock Holmes was a good man. Whatever the press say, whatever he tried to convince me of, I will not believe he was a fraud. He was my best friend, my only friend. He helped me live again, gave me a reason to, and I think, in a way, I helped him too. He could be rude, and he was undeniably a sociopath, but he was cunning, he was special, he was brilliant, and I will never forget him. There will never be another Sherlock Holmes. Goodbye mate."

His voice stayed steady and he took his place with the rest of the group as the coffin was lowered into the grave. As the dirt and flowers were thrown into the grave covering the coffin Mycroft helped his mother down the pathways to their private car and left with Mrs. Holmes sobbing. Next to leave was Molly, tears silently falling, and the minister. Greg squeezed John's arm and spoke quietly:

"John, mate I'll be heading out, the men around the perimeter have been ordered to stay until you leave, so take all the time you need."

"Thanks mate."

The night after the funeral Greg got ready for bed after a long day when his phone went off, it was a text from John.

**Greg I don't know what to do. ~JW**

_**Do you need me to come over John? ~GL**_

**I don't know. I feel lost. ~JW**

_**I'll be over soon John; we can talk over a cuppa or watch some bad telly. ~GL**_

**Thanks mate. ~JW**

In almost no time Greg arrived at 221b ready for whatever he might find inside. He found John, sitting alone in his chair just staring forward; he barely noticed when Greg entered the room.

Greg knowingly stayed quiet, made some tea for himself and John, and then just sat on the couch and kept watch over his grieving friend; he listened to John carefully when he would quietly mumble about Sherlock, and he got John a blanket when he shivered. Finally John fell into a fitful sleep. Greg made himself more tea and when John woke up around dawn he made him tea and toast with jam. After a mumbled thank you and a brief hug, Greg thought it safe to leave John alone, and John let him go, himself now wanting to be alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft

He thought his brother had everything under control. He thought that he'd make a stop in at 221b Baker street that night and be greeted by his snarky little brother. If he had only known how wrong he was.

On the morning of the funeral, Mycroft Holmes dressed in one of his nicer suits, and left in a private car to pick up his mother. When he arrived at the stately manor, now occupied solely by his mother and her domestic help, she was already standing in the drive in a long black gown that clung to her frail body, and a tasteful, black hat with a veil that covered her face. Mrs. Holmes had always been a picture of beauty, even in her age, and Mycroft had always admired his mother for her strength and cunning. Mrs. Violet Holmes got into the car with her now only son and they drove off towards the cemetery where she would bury her youngest son.

The car ride had been almost an hour long, and about half an hour through it Violet quietly broke the silence between her and her oldest son.

"Mycroft darling, although you did not always get along with Sherlock, he looked up to you more than anyone in the world, especially after your father died. I'm glad that after I got too old to handle our poor dear he still had you to look after him. You took care of him well, I know you did all you could for him, even in the beginning, after he got on the drugs. He told me once, on one of his bad nights, after you left for university, he had gotten up from a nightmare and crawled into bed with me. He was quite big at the time so I asked him 'Now what has gone and scared my big brave Sherlock?' and you know what he said Mycroft? He told me 'Mummy, it was a terrible nightmare, I had lost Mymy. I didn't know where he went to.' I thought at the time it was the sweetest thing that he cared so much for you. If only he had known how to tell you, he never was good with words. But I know our dear Shirley knew that you loved and cared for him. I loved watching you two grow up. I only wish Shirley could see me off instead of the other way around."

"I know mother, I'm sorry. I miss him too."

Directly after the funeral Mycroft had loaded his crying mother into the car with him, and they drove off back to Holmes' estate. That evening Mycroft arranged it so he may stay a few days with his frail mother and still be able to work. He stayed with his mother for a few days as they helped each other deal with their grief, sharing stories over tea.

"Mummy, do you remember what Sherlock wanted to be when he was growing up?"

"I believe so Mymy; didn't he want to be a pirate?"

"Indeed mother, he was an odd child, right up until the end."

"Oh I know he was darling, do you know his favorite animal was always the otter? It quite suites him though, they're clever animals and very long and skinny, just like our Shirley."

And so the next few days went for Mycroft and his mother. But slowly Mycroft went back to work, and though he visited as often as he could, Violet Holmes was left alone again with her home and her help.


End file.
